HIS RECOVERY.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2431, 20 February 1909, Page 11 (Supplement)

HIS RECOVERY.

John Deering gave one despairing look around the room that was to bo his home in the future, and then fled down three flights of stairs and out the front door of the boarding house. The few articles he had saved from the sale held in the interest of his father’s creditors upon his death seemed to look at ihim with silent reproach in the new surroundings. John felt that any immediate effort to reconcile them to circumstances would he hopeless. So lie turned his back on the bare little room and sought the streets for comfort.

As John Deering passed through the lower hall he did not notice two women just within the door of the stiff little parlor. But they saw him, and the elder, who was the landlady, remarked to the other.:

“There is a new neighbor for you Miss King. He has taken tho room next to you on the third floor.” “What a sad face ho .has,” answered Miss King.

“YYs, I think he has had some financial loss, and his father has just died. He is from the country and probably feels strange. I think he is very handsome.” - “Yes, only too tragic-looking,” said Miss King. She went on up to her room, and for the rest of the day the face of tho young man remained in her mind'. Her own life had not been along very easy lines, and she was quick to divine trouble in others and full of help and sympathy. The young glimpse she had caught of the young man’s tense face had convinced her that he was suffering, and' she could not get him >ut of her mind.

John Deering did not take his meals at the house, and for some days his neighbor did not see him again. But she heard him coming and going, and wondered what his occupation could be that kept him out of his room most of the time.

Time passed, and Miss King met John occasionally on the stairs or in the hall and her interest in him did not 'abate. He still appealed to her sympathy, though she could not have said exactly why. Although she was only twenty-six and he must have Been quite that, she felt much older and told herself that her pity Was of a truly maternal order. He seemed to be so utterly alone.

One evening as Mary King eat in

her room she heard her neighbor come ,n. For a while he moved about, and then all was silent. Suddenly Mary became conscious cl an odd sound, very faint, and she raised her head, and listeu'ed. There it was again. Could she bo mistaken? She rose and tip-toed to the wall, aml without a thought of anything dishonorable, laid her ear against it. There was no longer any doubt, 'lhe sound of stilled weeping was audible to her, that dreadful sound of <a man struggling with his anguish in vain and giving in at last, only because there was no one to hear. Mary’s heart was torn with pity and she never stopped for a second thought. Here was a fellow-creature in distress and she alone-within, call. She stepped into the hall and knocked ) at Decring’s door. • j There was no response and she J knocked again. Still no answer. When j tlie third knock brought nothing Mary turned the knob and the door opened quietly. At a table covered with papers the young man was sitting, his arms stretched out over the disordered array and liis head buried in them. He did not look up until the girl stood beside him and touched his shoulder gently. “Can I do anything to help you? I have the room next door 'and I—l ’ heard your distress and I felt so sorry.” The young man had sprung to his ’ feet. He looked startled and bcwilcl- ' ered at first and then seizing a handkerchief began savagely wiping liis eyes. 1 1 “I had no idea I was making such a 1 fool of myself,” he said. “I don’t 1 know what you must think of me.” I “I don’t think anything except that you were in troublo and that perhaps I could help you,” she answered. ’ Deering tried his best to laugh, but • it ‘ broke off as lie looked into the clear brown eyes so full of sympathy I and unconsciousness. P “1 am in trouble and you are very kind,” he said. “You are the first ' one who has said a friendly word to ? me since I came here.” j. “Can’t you toll me all about it? Perhaps I can help you.” I John did not know how it happened , that he was soon pouring his story j into Mary King’s ears. She sat down across the table from his and listened , with keen interest as he told her of his life in the small western college j town where ho had lived since childhood with his father. They had been j comparatively well-off, and lie had 5 gone to college and afterwards worked at his ambition, which was to be a writer. He had the most- unlimited 3 faith in liis talent. It had absorbed ? him, but he had never yet tried to . have’anything published. When his 3 father died suddenly, it was found that his affairs were in a had shape, ( and everything had to be sold. John : had taken his two novels in raamiL script and came bodily to the city, never losing faith in liis star. But he had been to publisher after publisher, and no one was the least interested in him. He had written a little volume

hr verse since his arrival, but it fared

no hotter. “And I know they arc good,” ho said earnestly, and Mary felt sure that they were, too. “I am completely discouraged,” lie continued. “All my money is gone. And to-night when I came in I found this letter,” pointing to a crushed sheet of notepaper lying on tho table, “saying that the one person on earth that I cared for had ceased to care for me, and broken off our engagement.” “That is dreadful , after all tho rest,” said Mary indignantly. “I should think site might have waited.” “She is tired of waiting—and the other man has plenty of money,” answered John.

“Then sho isn’t worthy- of your tears,” said Mayy, with spirit. “I loved her very much,” replied the man.

Mary felt a decided pang as she heard these words, but she 'began talking very fast. “I am sure I can help you. Tho trouble is that you expect too much all at once and you must work into things. I wanted to be an artist when 1 found I had my own living to make, but because I must have money for drawing lessons I managed to get a ■place on one of the big daily papers as designer for fashion notes. It paid pretty well, and gradually I worked into illustrating stories, and that is what I am doing now, and taking painting lessons. If you can really write let novels and verses alone for a while and try littlo stories for some of the papers. There is always room for things that are bright and new. And this way you can live and work at your big things all tho time. I can give you one or two introductions that would help a little.” When Mary King went back to lier owiu-room she left .a different man from the one she had found. She had. found. Sho had kindled hope and the flame burned brightly, and not even the love that he had lost could quench ift. But the effept of lier kind deed on Mary was most peculiar. She became less cheerful, less interested in her work and was morose and .moody.

Weeks passed and she saw a great deal of her neighbor. Her plan had suceceded brilliantly and he was working hard and' growing more cheerful all tho time. He had begun another

novel and read he,r chapters from it

as it grew and she thought it was' a most wonderful book. Still Mary King was not happy. In her heart she knew that John cherished the hope of succeeding in time to win back his old love,. and, as he grew more cheerful over his small successes and-his liopo of a great one, sfie grew the less so.

Fall and winter passed 'and the spring came and the oook was finished. Mary did not know which she

dreaded most, success or failure, for

the young author. Success meant that he would go away from her. Failure meant suffering for him, and she loved him too much to want him to suffer.

At last, after weeks of suspense, the book was accepted by the publish, ers, who also requested to sec anything else Deering should write, or anything else he had written which was yet unpublished.

The evening of the day of the great news found Mary sitting alone in her room, trying hard to rejoice for her friend. Ho had not come in and she had come upstairs ai'tflr giving up tho hope that sho would see him that night.

She felt very lonely and miserable and a few tears stole silently down her cheeks. In a moment she was sobbing her face hidden in her arms on the table under tho reading lamp.

There was a knock at the door, but Mary did not hear it. Nor did she see the door open and a young man come softly in. He knelt beside her and she turned to find his head on a level with hers and his arms around her.

“Mary, dearest, why are you crying? Aren’t you glad for mo; dont you care enough for me for that? I have the right to tell you now what you have to me since that night when I looked up and saw you standing like an angel of pity beside me. I love you . You have been my inspiration. Will you marry me, dear?”

“Oh!” gasped Mary. “I thought it was—” but she buried her face on tiie shoulder so near her and never told him what she thought.